Hey y'all! A chapter! W00t!
THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO: HANNBE, SANDPRINTS, "GUEST", "HEYYALL", & "NIKI85GIRLLLLLLL"
Thank you so, so much for your reviews. They meant a ton to me. Now, for everyone's favorite part of the evening... responses! (to the guest reviews. Otherwise, I PM.)
Niki85girllllllll: I'm glad you liked! Awesomesauce right back atcha! As for updates... I think all of my stories are complete, other than this one. I do have some other stories in the works though... So stay tuned... ;) :)
Heyyall: So glad you liked! Liv is actually based on, well, me... (My nickname is Liv, I have curly brown hair and some unnatural colored bits...) But Liv is definitely a cooler version of me, :p Marlene may appear... Idk, though. I honestly never liked her much. But, oh well. There are A LOT of plot twists coming up, so tbh, who knows?! Sorry about chapter 3's formatting crisis. Not really sure why, but I think FF was spazzing on me. But yeah...
Oh, and Divergentalltheway: Your comment was not cool. I'm sorry if you didn't like, but you should at least give me something to work with, not just criticism. Also, if your gonna write that type of review, you should at least stop blocking PM's so that people can discuss it with you. C'mon, bro. We're all in the fanfic thing together. We can't be mean.
And now, without further ado, I give you... CHAPTER FIVE!
Oh yeah. Disclaimer: Don't own. Hence, writing FANfiction. Also, don't own "Oh No," by Marina and the Diamonds.
Once upon a time, Tris had set the alarm on her phone to be some upbeat kind-of poppy song she'd really liked at the time. The rationale was that hearing a song she liked first thing would help her feel peppy and invigorated. (The closest to that she normally got was 'somewhat animated' and 'undead'.) Unfortunately, it normally took a couple spins through to three-minute or-so song to actually get Tris awake enough to get out of bed and turn the damn thing off, so it wasn't long before she was well and truly sick of the song.
Today was no example. The alarm started out as it always did, a soft scratchy beat in the background for a few counts, then bubble piano chords layering in. A few seconds more, and the singer, Marina (of Marina and the Diamonds) burst in. "Don't do love, don't do friends…"
Tris groaned and opened her eyes slowly, balancing her irritation with the song she'd once loved and the desire to stay in her soft, warm, cozy bed. A quick glance at the clock made the choice for her- 7:00. She needed to get going.
Sighing and mumbling bitterly, Tris swung her legs over the side of the bed, and eventually managed to sit up. She was immediately freezing- it had really cooled off over night, apparently. Hugging herself, Tris stumbled across the room to the box labeled "everyday clothes". Her bare feet felt strange and heavy on the sanded wood floor. It was only her 2nd morning in the new house. Everything felt… off.
After a few minutes of increasingly panicked rummaging (which left both Tris and the contents of the box more than a little shaken up…) Tris managed to find a semi decent outfit- baggy black cargo pants, a dark pink sweatshirt, and a t-shirt with one of her favorite quotes ever, "Well-behaved women rarely make history". An image of Liv and her streaky purple hair popped into her head, unbidden. Smirking to herself, Tris swiped on some deodorant (hey, it ain't glam but it sure is useful!) and then brushed on some thick eyeliner. She might not ever be in the same league as Liv, Lynn, and Bette, but hey, she could at least dip her toes into the hot bath of badassitude.
Badassitude? Badassness? Badassism? Tris was still contemplating the word choice when she made her way downstairs, a distinct spring in her step. Her crazy afternoon, from the bleachers with Four and his group, from the pyscho car ride with Jeanine, to the dramatic dinner with Caleb, all seemed like a dream. A fuzzy, scary, surreal dream.
"Morning, honey!" Tris's mom was in the kitchen already, reading the newspaper and sipping coffee. No matter where they lived, the Prior's always got the New York Times. Tris wasn't sure why, exactly… As far as she knew, nobody in her family had ever lived there, and much to her chagrin, the Big Apple was one spot in the map the Prior's hadn't managed to settle in. Tris just assumed that her mother had lived there at some point- she didn't talk much about her life before marrying Tris's father.
"Hey," said Tris with a surprising degree of sincere happiness. She glanced around the kitchen for a few seconds before finding the cornflower blue plates that had traveled all across the country. She fished a spoon out of a box on the counter; poured herself a hearty bowl of Special K's cereal, splashed in some milk, and settled down at the kitchen table.
The sun was shining, her cereal was crunching, she was looking (kinda sorta maybe) badass- what could go wrong?
Many things, as it turned out.
The first one of those things happened to be Caleb. He strode confidently into the kitchen not two minutes after Tris settled down, and always, he was bright eyed and bushy tailed, looking put together and well coiffed. His blonde hair was spiked up to a sharp point above his forehead, and his gray eyes glinted. He wore a standard Caleb-outfit, jeans and a slightly fitted T-shirt under a sleek blazer, and converse. Today, it was faded grayish jeans, a dark blue T-shirt, and a charcoal colored blazer, paired with, inexplicably teal chucks.
"Mornin', Mom, Bea," he chirruped, pouring himself a mug of coffee and swinging down to sit across from Tris.
Tris scowled, her mood souring. Nothing like an obnoxious older brother to kill an optimistic outlook.
"Well, aren't you a bundle of sunshine and unicorn droppings this morning?" Caleb quirked an eyebrow, slurping his coffee just loudly enough to show off how cool he was, how adult, with his caffeine and his chipper ways.
"You know it," quipped Tris in response, gulping down the lasts of her cereal and getting a chocolate chip cookie to round out the "balanced" meal.
"Well, as tragic as that is, I gotta go." Caleb got to his feet, swinging his gray canvas backpack onto his shoulders and chugging whatever remained of his coffee. "I've got a ride to school."
"A ride? With who?" Edith glanced up from the paper, a slight frown furrowing the delicate skin between her eyes, her nose, and the upper reaches of her forehead.
"Oh, just the girl I told you about last night." Caleb's voice oozed satisfaction. Tris felt nauseous. "Jeanine Matthews. She and a couple of her friends are gonna swing by and pick me up, so I don't have to deal with the bus." He glanced sideways at Tris, driving in his point: He had a ride, while she was left to "deal with the bus". Little did he know the deeper issues that Tris had with the situation.
"What friends?"
Tris would've rolled her eyes, made some comment about paranoia, probably pissed her mom off completely. Caleb merely shrugged fluidly. "Two girls. Jeanine said they were her best friends- Bri-Bla-Blaire, Blaire DuPont, and Carol-Catheringe-Caroline Pietmon, I think."
Edith nodded, sated. "Alright then, I guess. Well, have a good day, then, Caleb…" She lifted up her mug of coffee, and then stopped midway. "I know! Why don't you ask your new friend to give Bea a ride, too?"
It was hard to tell who looked more horrified by the suggestion, Caleb or Tris. For once, they agreed on something: Tris would not be coming on the car ride.
"Oh, no, I, uh, really want to get to know the bus system. So I won't be too reliant, you know…" Tris smiled as brightly as she could.
"Exactly. And anyway, don't you always say that it's important that Bea not always be in my shadow-" Tris clenched her fists at her sides. Of course Caleb would manage to drag a gibe into his otherwise helpful argument. "- and coming along with me and my friends wouldn't exactly help her on her way."
"Hmm…" Like everyone else in the world (probably in the whole fricking galaxy, thought Tris with a touch of bitter humor,) Edith was won over by Caleb's smooth tones, and confident, charismatic nature. "I just feel bad, sending Bea off on her own."
"Bea will be fine. She's a big girl, now." Caleb cleared his throat. "Anyway, I gotta go. Bye mom, Bea-" He saluted Edith, mock-saluted Tris, and then swept out of the room in a swoosh of cologne and charisma.
"Bea, honey, would you be a dear and grab the mail?" Tris was just settling back down to finish her cookie when her mother's voice caught her attention.
"Hmm?"
"We're waiting for some papers to come about the details of the move, and I just realized that I need to switch my shoes since I have a meeting today. You know, on my feet and all-" she gestured ruefully at her sleek, somewhat torturous-looking black pumps. "So would you just grab the mail from the box- the key's on the table by the door- while I get sensible footwear?"
"Uh- sure?" Tris got to her feet. Getting the mail wouldn't take too long, and she figured it would be good to curry some favor with her mother.
She slipped on her shoes and ducked out the front door. The crisp morning air washed over her, and she inhaled deeply. Everything seemed crisp and sharp. Hard, but bright, fine lines outlining everything like a super-focused microscope.
She unlatched the mailbox, reaching inside. Her hand closed over just one envelope. No bills or catalogues, for a change. Tris figured it was probably because the companies didn't have their address yet.
The letter in her hand was different from most mail they got, however, on more than just those counts. Unlike the crappy corporate fax-paper enveloped most things were sent in, the envelope was a creamy white paper that seemed more suitable for watercolor than for the postal service. The return address was somewhere in… Chicago? Puzzling. Who would be sending them mail from Chicago? But the address was the strangest thing of all. It was completely accurate, almost frighteningly so, except for the first line of the text.
It was addressed to someone named Natalie Prior.
"Mom?" Tris bounded inside, the envelope clutched in her hand.
"Yes? Everything OK?" Edith was in the kitchen once again, now clad in ballet flats with her skirt and jacket.
"We got this one letter, from Chicago, but it's not addressed to any of us."
A very strange look began to creep over Edith's face. "What do you, it's not addressed to any of us?"
"W-well," Tris began, fear beginning to sink it's icy claws into her. "It's addressed to someone named Natalie Prior."
There was a crashing sound.
Tris jumped, staring around wildly for a moment before finding the source of the noise.
Her mother had dropped her mug, and it now lay in shards of blue porcelain on the tiled ground, coffee oozing out like brownish blood.
Her face was ice white, her eyes very large and very dark in the midst of all the paleness. Her lips were tightened into a thin line, and her hands shook.
"This cannot be happening."
Oh Zayyymmmm! Plot twists are where it's at, yo!
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